“Allowing yourself to become frustrated will only make this more challenging. And this is only the first line.”
Fire licks up my skin. “Can you show me the other parts of the ritual, then?”
I’m curious how he will explain that I am to cut out my heart—if he tries to sugarcoat it somehow.
He goes from sitting to standing in one graceful movement. “Fine, but the words are the most important piece. Wewillgo back to them.”
“Sure, fine. My tongue just needs a break from the hissing and rolling.”
His eyes flash to my lips, and I’m suddenly aware of how close we are. I take a step back and he smirks. “Prey, Grace. Running only entices the predator.”
A nervous laugh escapes me. “Think what you want, Niethal. You will be the last male to kiss me any time soon.”
His smile widens into a broad grin, bringing out his dimple. “Onthat, we can both agree.”
I kick myself mentally for the words I just said.
He moves closer and pulls a wicked-looking dagger from his belt. The knife is no longer than the length of his palm, but its color grabs my attention. It’s a beautiful, dark red blade with an all-black handle. I reach for it, but he pulls it back. “Take care not to touch the iron blade to your skin. Rumors say it cuts through anything with little to no resistance.”
He extends the dagger to me, and I cautiously take it. It’s surprisingly light. A faint vibration travels from the knife up through my hand, and I peer at Niethal for his reaction, but his face holds nothing but mild interest.
“Is it supposed to do that?”
“Supposed to do what, my dear?”
Now I feel foolish. “The blade. It’s humming.”
His eyebrow arches. “No, I haven’t heard of it doing that. It is Alessandra’s blade, so I suppose it recognizes your Anaeris heritage. Take it—it’s yours.”
I examine it. “Why do you have Alessandra’s knife?”
When I ask, the blade pulses as if it heard her name.
“Let’s just say Alessandra was none too pleased when I showed up at the castle before the war’s end.”
“So, what, she gave you her knife? I’m not following.”
He gives a cheeky grin. “She may have thrown it at me.”
I snort and twist the dagger in the sunlight. The dark red gives the appearance of blood coating the blade. “I’m sure you deserved it.”
“Oh, I definitely did.”
Even though I already know the answer, I ask, “What do I do with it?”
He comes closer, wrapping his hand around mine and the blade’s handle. “When the time comes, you will stab the knife into your chest, just as Gabriel and Alessandra did. I won’t lie to you. There is a slight chance it will take your life. But I believe that undoing the border and blood magic will return to life that which was taken. You will not perish but be remade, much like Anaeris will be. My healer will be with us to ensure that. I do not take your life for granted, no matter what you think. I intend to marry you in the city promised to me, and I can’t do that if you are dead.”
His words are almost sweet, except for the marrying him and possibly dying part.
“All of that sounds nice, except, well…all of it. I change my mind. None of that sounds pleasant.”
He chuckles and releases my hand. “Stubborn as ever. The knife is not important right now—the first part of the ritual, you already know how to do. You will stand outside where Anaeris once stood and ignite your magic, repeat the ancient language, and finally, the dagger to your heart, from top to bottom.”
He makes a slicing gesture across his chest, and I inspect the blade, knowing it may soon be coated in my life’s blood. The only thing I want is to drop the knife and never touch it again. As if it senses my hesitation, it pulses stronger.
“I don’t have anywhere to put it.”
He unties a small sheath from around his waist and takes his time wrapping it around mine. His knuckles brush against my hip, sending a shiver along my spine. His touch shouldn’t still have this effect on me.